Coffee Cups and Conversations
by musicnotes093
Summary: Eliot meets an old acquaintance, and their conversation gives him an insight on what he feels about his team and things in general. NCISxLeverage.


**Title:** _"Coffee Cups and Conversations"_

**Rating:** FR7

**Genre:** Crossover, Friendship, Recollection

**Pairing(s):** none

**Summary:** Eliot meets a girl he met in the past, and their conversation gives him an insight on what lies ahead. NCIS-Leverage crossover.

**Notes:** Written for Amy (2cbetter2) at NCIS Verse, LJ!

* * *

After leaving the pretty cashier with a smile, Eliot turned around and sauntered through the tables for the door. Hardison was a patient man when he wanted to be. Perhaps today it would not hurt if he tested that virtue of him. He had good reasons. The girl was still watching him, he could feel. She had written down her name—which, after reading, he found out was Rose—and her number on his cup. He just needed to make sure she would answer when he called.

He was not desperate. Just interested.

Plus, Nate was not really too adamant on early presence for their new job. He did not feel like questioning that decision.

Before he could exit the café, a familiar face in his periphery caught his attention. He stopped. His brows slightly wrinkled while he swiveled on his heels. When he spotted her, the brooding expression on his features cleared. She still had that perpetual determined look etched in her face, but, now, the anger and indifference that used to shape her eyes and mouth were gone. She seemed…_free_.

He tried to extinguish his curiosity before it matured. The next thing he knew, though, he was already sitting down on the empty seat in front of her with a knowing smirk.

She stared at him at first, surprised with his sudden action. She frowned. Then, she smiled. "I know you," she said. "I have not seen you in a while, but I remember you. Spencer, am I right?"

Eliot remembered one of Moreau's goon's slip of the tongue when he worked a job in Cairo years ago. He hitched a shoulder. "More or less," he answered. "How have you been, Ziva?"

Ziva made a face, showing that she was impressed. "So I was right," she said. "When I said that if you were interested, you will find out who I am."

"I guess I gave myself away," he went along with her sentiment.

Ziva chuckled. "I am fine, Spencer. And yourself?"

"Same. You in the country for business?"

"You meant Mossad?" Ziva smiled, although bitterly. She shook her head. "No. I have not been working there for a while."

"Nothing gone wrong, I hope."

"Just circumstances," Ziva said. She eased back in her chair, and then sipped some of her coffee. "But—I am much better now."

Eliot smiled. "I can tell," he remarked.

Ziva shot him an inquisitive look. For one moment, she looked as if she would ask how, but whatever thought came to her rendered that unnecessary.

A reason for Ziva being there entered his mind. "Are you in any trouble?" he asked.

"Ah, no. No," Ziva responded. "I think I am much safer here than anywhere else. I am in good hands."

The way her eyes lit up was enough explanation for Eliot. Her words sufficed, too.

He didn't know why, but for some reason it reminded him of the team.

"Why?" Ziva's teasing question snapped him out of his reverie. "Do you think I need saving?"

Eliot smirked. "I would if you needed to be," he answered pragmatically. "I still owe you for saving my life from that bombing."

"You owe me nothing."

"You know that's not true. I was there for the wrong reasons, with the wrong people. It would have been easy to let me die."

Ziva scoffed. "I saw you risk it all to save a little girl and her family from getting murdered," she said. "You might have been there with the wrong people, but not for the wrong reasons." Eliot looked at her with an unsure smirk. "I had a feeling you would continue in the same artery one day."

Ignoring the confused idiom, Eliot dared her to expound, "Oh yeah?"

Ziva shrugged. "You're less…angry than when I first met you," she said. "You're much better." She smirked, drawing her cup near her lips. "I can tell."

Eliot smiled. He did not know how true her statement was, but it was not far from his conclusions with working with the team lately. He did not want anyone to think he was content; they would think he was soft. But, he was still glad that someone noticed he was satisfied. He was glad that a person who was, come to think about it, similar to him noted that.

A keen movement towards their table called to his attention. Glaring up at the tall young man with soft features, he watched as he stopped right beside Ziva, mildly frowning. "Ziva?" he said just as the woman lifted her head up towards him.

"Oh," Ziva stood up, now slightly grinning. "Spencer, this is Tim. Tim, this is Spencer."

Tim extended out his hand pleasantly. "Nice to meet you, Spencer," he greeted.

Eliot stood up. He shook his hand while briefly sizing him up. "Your husband?" he asked.

Tim and Ziva glanced at each other, and then chuckled. "No," Ziva said. "But he is a very, very good friend of mine."

Eliot nodded then smirked. "That's good," he said, failing to notice the door admit his friend in.

"Man, what in the world is taking you so long?" Hardison's voice struck his ears as the young man stopped right next to him. After noticing the two people in front of them and coming to his own assumption, a grin surfaced on his face. "You really need to get better at your game," he commented quietly to Eliot.

"I'm Ziva," Ziva offered her hand, which Hardison inquisitively shook. "Spencer's old acquaintance. And you are…?"

Eliot searched around for a fake name to give. Even if he trusted Ziva, he still had to play things safe. Finding the answer on the logo on his coffee cup, he answered, "Boston." Hardison shot him an offended look. "Ziva, Tim, this is Boston. Boston, Ziva and Tim."

"A pleasure to meet you, Boston," Ziva said. "Spencer, is he your—"

"No," Eliot shook his head firmly, his eyes wide. "No. He's…he's a friend. He's not a…you know."

"Okay," Ziva nodded, slightly bewildered by his reaction.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we've gotta go, Ziva," Tim said. "Boss is waiting for his coffee."

"Right. Well, it was nice meeting you again, Spencer," Ziva said. "Hopefully, this is not the last time we will meet?"

Eliot smiled. "Hopefully," he said. Ziva waved goodbye, while Tim nodded at him. He watched as they get inside the car and soon vanish into the streets of DC. Following Hardison's lead out of the café, he muttered to himself, "It shouldn't be."

This morning turned out better than he thought. Perhaps meeting Ziva again was good, and seeing his future with his past was not too bad as he always thought it would be.

It did not mean it didn't make him feel uneasy, however—

"Naming me after a coffee place," Hardison sulked as he drove. "You must be out of your mind."

—and admittedly amused.

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_**Liked it? Noticed something hinky? Please let me know!**_


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